Braided Storm
by mamabot
Summary: Inspired after my crack fic Ripped and Torn, but this is a serious ficlit. Cyclonus and a new OC for me. I see Cyclonus as noble as TFP's Dreadwing so I gave him a pre-war background and fuel to his war-agression to Ultra Magnus. But that won't be made clear until Chapter 3. CyclonusxOC General Ultra Magnus, Commander Starscream, Commander Skyfire, Dirge, Thrust.
1. Twisted Wind

Twisting in the Wind

"Commander Cyclonus," heavy pregnant pause, "…we need to talk."

His spark thumps extra hard. The time has come, and he's still not ready. He should be, but this is the final move. After this, there is no turning back.

"Yes, General, on my way." He closes the line and turns. She's still asleep. Does he wake her or does he just leave for this fateful meeting? If he leaves, one he will never forgive himself, and second, with a rueful smile, he will wish he had been killed in battle rather than by her own hand for breaking his promise to her.

Curling over her, he whispers in her audio, "Babe, it's time."

She rolls into his sunset chest and buries her face. "Couldn't they have given us a few more moments before they march us into the Pit?"

Cupping her well muscled aft, tightens his own thickly corded thigh over her hip. Locking her to his own body. "You don't have to go with me. You can -"

Her finger tips pinch his lips shut even though she doesn't move her face from his throat. The conversation has been sealed off. So he leans in and presses the pinched lips to her forehelm.

"Are you scared?" She asks releasing him.

"Terrified. Not for me or you, but where this is going. It's going to be ugly. A lot of lives are going to be lost. We could… loose it all."

"Primus will guide us."

The dark helm shakes, "I really hope he knows what he is doing because I can not see this ending well."

The alarm goes off. It's time to face the music. She reaches up and kisses the under side of his chin, "Do we have time for one last shower together before we face the firing squad?"

Rolling and lifting her, he beams, "I will make time. Death can wait for you." With that, her silent tears bury into his neck, legs latched around his trim waist, claws digging into is shoulder blades aching to hold onto every last moment with her mate.

No big surprise that the shower turns into a romantic last love making. Slow, painfully needed, and beautiful. He always did find her form beautiful in the sleek and yet toned Lear Jet form. But here in her soft powder white protoform, more stunning. Her natural form. His spark mate.

Likewise, her hands can not get enough of feeling his pulsing spark under her palms. The tight abs, the thick thighs, even his light and agile pedes in a deep sunset orange. The calming soothing color. Much like the soft warmth of a wood-fire's dying embers. It calls you home. It keeps you warm and … "Cyclonus," her voice whispers out his name as they huddle together in the rapidly cooling water.

"I know Babe, I know." He tries to protect her with his own arms, but they too are trembling. As is his whole body. "We must face them. We can not hide like petro rats. After all, we do have our pride. We have our honor. We have our obligations to Cybertron."

Nodding her head she looks up into his soft red embers, "Of course. You're right." She beams her smile at him reminding them of their dignity and rank. "I stand by your side."

"And I by yours." He cups her face and kisses her warmly.

~~00~~

Striding down the halls of Fortress Maximus they make quite the pair. One deep dark with vibrant but thin glowing orange highlights. While the other is pure white light with sky-blue trim.

Commander Cyclonus is so dark, you would think his color is black. That is until he IS standing next to a black bot and then you notice, it's actually deep purple. His orange accents bleed into the darkness, almost like they are diluting black into it's purple spectrum. It works well for his duty assignment.

Skyfire and Starscream may lead the Elite Seeker's Guard just as General Ultra Magnus leads the Cybertronian Army. But just as Commander Springer handles the Black Ops of the Wrecker's Division that the General washes his hands of (or sweeps under the rug) Starscream shoves missions to Cyclonus that need to be done without his own name being tarnished.

Cyclonus doesn't care. He doesn't want recognition. Is he paid well? Will he always have a home (with out energy bars holding him in)? Will he have a bottle of high grade on his desk? Can he choose his teams? Then so what. He doesn't care. All for the protection of his home: Cybertron. He will do anything to protect her.

Anything….anything. Including turn his back on her recognized military in order to serve the uprising that seems to have a better plan to protect his home.

A hand squeezes his. He turns to his spark mate. Her nervous smile reminds him he is not walking this alone. It still fries his processor the incredible moment they met.

~~….

He and his team of three have slipped in under the cover of night. The target, sound asleep in his hovel of hideout, never saw it coming. Nor did he.

No one steals weapons from the Elite Guard and brags about it…twice. Once is all you get and then you are made an example of….twice.

The plan had been simple enough. These punk-aft thieves will never learn. So arrogant and cocky. So full of themselves. Thinking they are so…

Shwack.

The Black Ops Commander whips his helm around in time to see Dirge thrown off trajectory and spin in crashing to the ground unceremoniously. Okay, he can still do this with two.

Shwack.

Thrust, standing on the lookout post across the street, crumples. That's not good.

Slinking back into the darkened hollow, he uses his deep colors to blend into the shadows. And there, he sees it. A wisp of streaking moonlight right over Thrust's position. Near silent, he watches. She lands in the light letting it hide her. Light as moonlight. Dark as night. He sees her, does she see him? Her head turns, she searching for him. She knows he is here someplace.

Taking her time scans the area. Hidden where he is, his energy signature is masked, with his upgraded scrambler.

She backs again and he gets a good look at her. He may not be a player of sparks, but he is also no recluse either. Well, a little. But he knows a fine set of femalely attributes when he sees them. On top of that, he knows a skilled espionage expert too when he sees one. Wrapped up in one bot, he knew he was slag on a stick now. She riled things in him that makes him furious with himself!

Get your head together, Commander. Finish the mission. That's part of her charm, distraction.

By the time he is done resetting his optics and processor, she's gone. He takes a few more moments to gather his wits and then moves. Slipping through the open window, searches the hovel. It's not very big but the mech is smart enough not to sleep in his berth. No, that's were all the weapons are stashed. So where is the mech?

Sh-

Curl. He heard the beginning sound that had taken out his teammates and curled flat to the floor. The dart embedded in the wall just above his helm. There on the floor, he sees the drips of Energon before his nose. Still wet, still dripping. He rests his right cheek to the floor and trains his optic up to the ceiling. Yep, there it is, the hammock dripping of life fluids. Someone beat him to it.

Ooofff!

The lighter, but muscled frame of a femme lands on his back, pinning his wrists to the floor with her knees. She says nothing. He feels the blow dart pressed up against his neck. She can't miss.

She inhales and he jerks his helm. He had nothing to loose. Hiking his aft off the floor, sliding his knees under him, bucks her. She rolls to the side and he takes the upper hand in pinning her hands to the floor and looking into her sky blue optics.

She's not mad. She hasn't given up either. Planting her pedes, jerks her own hips up. His technique, reversed. Even his heavier weight is not a problem. He's not that much heavier than her, after all. He rides the buck.

She only tries twice then figures this won't work. So she relaxes completely. He's not fooled. The limp routine will not work either. Nor is she giving up.

Rolling her helm back, latches onto his angry red optics. Who is going to make the next move?

"Sorry to cut in on your action, but I do get paid well for doing my job. You will not rob me of my credits for his head."

He ponders this for a moment. "All you want is his head?"

"Why, what do you want?"

"Answer my question." he grinds her wrist into the dirty floor.

She may grimace, but she doesn't cry out. She is no weakling. Good gosh if she wasn't a hired hit-bot, he could really go for her! He mentally shakes his processor to get it to come back in alignment.

For her, she is no fool either. She knows this well skilled mech as well. Bot's don't normally duck out of her blow dart. She smiles. She could really go for him if he isn't going steal her prize. He'll have to die before she will let that happen.

"I just need his head. You can have the rest."

"Why?" He carefully releases and then thrusts his weight back down. A move to let her know, he still has her pinned by his weight. And not just his physical weight, but weight of duty to a task. Honor.

Honor? Oh my! This mech is something else.

Neither asks the blasé questions of name, designation or affiliations. No, just to their mission. Who's mission overrides the other's?

"What do you want?" She asks.

"I need his servos and spinal support rod."

She grins, "So what do we do with the rest of him?

"I don't want it."

"I don't either," she can't help but giggle a little making her chest thump up and down against the filthy floor.

He releases her wrists and crosses his hands over his chest. A rare smile crosses his face. He can't help but give a soft chuckle. It's to funny. They both came to kill the same mech, and yet only need a small portion of him. The rest is… garbage?

She sticks out her Energon clean servo, "Leara."

He sticks his out but gives her the name he gives at the bars, not his real one. "Twist."

She frowns. She knows that cocky look on his face.

He cocks his helm to the side, "Oh please, that's not your real name either."

She squirms and hitches, "Could you move just a little to the right. You're digging into a transformation seam."

Spreading his legs wider, leans down bringing his fists to the side of her helm. He isn't going to let his prey up, but nor is he going to harm the femme any more than need be by placing his full weight on her light pelvic plates.

"Thank you," a relieved sigh escapes.

They both continue to stare at each other. How can this be happening? They are both just so calm that his mission got blown by her and she is trapped by him now. And no one is too concerned about trying to kill the other. This is just… surreal.

"Your team will come round before daybreak with one Pit of a headache."

"Um-hum," he takes in the fact without moving.

She cants her helm the other way, "So, Cyclonus, going to let me up or not?"

His brow arches. But then again, he shouldn't be that surprised. Lucayana the Huntress' blow dart is quite well known. As well as her severed head service. He just never thought she was this beautiful or charming. This was not in her files. No picture is known for her. For her near silent flight abilities and blow dart does it's job before anyone notices.

The only reason her name is known is because of a few senators who have hired her services. Heh, a few have even been the other end of her services as well. Not that he minded, they were corrupt or else she wouldn't have been hired to get past the Seeker Elite Guard.

"Hungry? I'm ravenous." And her empty tank grumbles beneath his body. This time he does visibly shake his head. The truth? She just laid out the truth several times for him.

"I know this place is a dump, but he has to have something and seeing how he won't be using it anytime soon… well I'd hate for it to go to waste."

He lifts one leg and reaches over to grab her blow gun, "Think I'll hold onto this, if you don't mind."

She rolls to her side and curls her neck down and back. Blinking those innocent looking baby blues at him, "I don't mind. I have more where that came from."

He lashes out to catch her arm, but she rolls quickly kicking his arm away, "Tisk tisk, Commander. Truce, I'm hungry."

"For what?"

Now her optics are mean and hard, "I'm NOT that kind of femme. And I will kill you if you try!"

He flashes his palms up making it clear he has no plans to attack her that way.

She sighs in relief. She know he is known for his honor. A mech of his word, even if he is Black Ops.

Curling to a stand, she flicks to the dead body dripping on the floor, "You skin him, I'll grill em."

He just gapes. Is she serious?

"Oh holy Primus, NO!" She shakes her own head back at him, "How did you ever make it to commander?"

Narrowing his optics, he makes it clear not to question his honor or intelligence. "Sorry."

Once again his mouth gapes. That was a very sincere apology.

"You're going to catch a fly in that trap if you don't close it." And sashes away towards the cabinets.

"Primus help me," he thumps himself in the forehelm with the heel of his palm. 'Yana laughs.

Leaping on top of the cabinets shows how she had already decapitated the mech in his hammock when Cyclonus had interrupted her. With a slice-slice, the hammock falls to the floor at his feet making the puddle of spilled Energon splatter up, tainting his armor.

"Hey! Geez!" Flicking his fingers down to his spoiled appearance, snarks, "I do have a reputation as well, you know."

"Oh I do know of your reputation. Two drinks, three hands, and no femme in …umm…" taps her chin digging through her files on him.

Once again his gaze darkens this time while he pulls the blade from his boot cuff. He waggles the tip in her direction, "Careful there."

Leaping down, she scoops up the severed head, "Oh really? What's a stake? Your spi-"

The reference to his personal appendage quickly is swiftly silenced by a hand to her mouth, not her throat. The head falls from her open palm, "Look, I really don't care who you are or what you want. Just leave me out of your little game. Just because some of us don't choose to whore ourselves out, doesn't give you the right to chastise rest of us." He waits until her optics go dark. He presses his hip against hers, not to make an offer, but to keep her from making her strike.

"Now if you don't mind, I shan't be dining with you. I do have a mission to finish." With an extra shove to her mouth, reminding her to keep it shut. He heads back to the kill and takes the servos in nothing flat. Flipping the dead body over, swiftly makes his cuts (like boning a fish) and yanks the spinal rod loose. He tosses his prizes down onto the weapons cache. As he turns, she is already gone with her head. Wrapping up the supplies, tosses it over his shoulder like a dead body.

Carefully checking around, makes his way into the night back to his cloaked shuttle. He cusses Now to go back and extract his two fallen teammates and drag them back to the shuttle. This mission has become complicated and exasperating.

Landing back at Moon Base 1, the medics are waiting as he had requested. Starscream as well. His optics go wide at his most careful and even keeled soldier looking frazzled, exhausted and Energon splattered. Not at all his standard operating procedure. "Cyclonus, care to explain?"

Slapping his boxed parcel into his CO's hands, he snaps, "No, I do not." Starscream blinks as the midnight mech moves past. "I'm hitting the showers if anyone cares."

"Uh I need your debriefing, Commander."

Cyclonus points to his incriminatingly stained peded, "I thought my job was to keep your servos clean? Do you really want footsteps leading straight to your office?" He cants his helm waiting for an answer.

"Right, I can wait."

"The weapons are on board too along with his spine, be careful."

"Understood. I'll get the shuttle scrubbed down."

Cyclonus passes a hand through the air, "No, I've got it. My shuttle, my job. I want no one touching her."

Starscream laughs lightly over his shoulder, "Make her sound like a lover."

Cyclonus can't help but smirk, "She is sometimes my soft place of peace to rest at times." With that shrugs and heads to the officer's wash racks.


	2. Knots

Knots

After a soothing warm shower trying desperately to scrub Yana from his head as well, steps into a debriefing with Starscream and Thundercracker. Carefully he avoids disclosing the fact that Yana beat him to the kill. Yes, he admits to his teammates getting dropped by her. Yes, he talked to her. Yes, she took his head for payment. No of course she didn't out fox him! Yes he will be on the alert to future missions that may have him crossing her path.

So much for the cleansing shower…

Deciding to bypass stasis, heads back to his shuttle Hurricane. Maybe it isn't a creative name considering his own designation, but she isn't sentient to argue. Although everyone likes to tease him about it for not having a regular femme or one on his arm every other night.

He just cocks a brow at them and sips his second drink, taking their credits while they drink themselves into a stupor or ogle the latest piece of femme hardware upgrades.

Not today though. No, today Hurricane gets all his attention. Hosing down and scrubbing her cargo bay, his mind drifts to the moonlit femme who stole his concentration. He just can not fathom how she did it. How could she get the drop on his target? He launched as soon as he got the intel.

"Because, I slipped someone a few credits to hold the intel for a few groons."

He doesn't move. "Telepathic too?"

"Nope, I just hate to see a good mech question himself."

Once again on top of a cabinet. This time next to his parked shuttle. Yes he should be calling security but at this point, why bother?

"What do you want?" He digs his toe into a tough stain scraping it loose.

"To make sure you aren't too wounded."

That does perk his interest, "Wounded?" She never hurt him.

"Your Commander's Ego."

He frowns and shoots her a deadly look, "Now it's time for you to go."

She leaps down, "Don't be that way, Cyclonus."

He turns the hose on her keeping her at bay. "Go away."

Sputtering in the unanticipated attack, she staggers back. His frown quickly turns to a triumphant grin. He steps down the ramp continuing to push her back. Out the hangar door in fact. Slapping the controls, brings the door closed whilst moving the power washer blast in her attempted dodging. The door seals, and she is locked out.

Smirking, he twists the line closed and begins coiling the hose. "This isn't over Commander." Her voice comes from his shuttle. Damn, now he has to strip Hurricane for bugs. That femme is really starting to get under his armor. Both the good and bad ways. Grr.

~~00~~

By the time Thrust is released from the med-ward (Dirge stuck a little longer due to his high dive crash), Cyclonus has been deemed unaccounted for. Thrust laughs to Skyfire, "Oh I know where he is. You should know this by now."

Skyfire and Thrust find Cyclonus sound asleep in the pilot's seat of his shuttle. The hands have gone limp dropping a data pad and wrench. Poor helm to the side, mouth slightly agape in a soft snore.

Thrust pouts his lips as if talking about a sparkling, "Aww, widdle commander all tuckered out. Idn't he the cutest thing?"

Skyfire whacks him in the back of the helm, "Careful, that's a deadly officer you are mocking."

Thrust rubs his helm. Damn, for a near pacifist, this mech hits hard.

"Get his pedes," the white superior motions while going for the shoulders. Together they carry him down the hallway to the berthing area. Carefully they lay him down in his bunk. A lower bunk with soft violet bedding. On the wall is a picture of the Sonic Canyons.

Skyfire shuts off the lights and seals the door. "Leave him alone. If I find you have punked him, you will find my signature on your discipline record."

Thrust wilts all the steam running out of his evil plan, "Yes sir."

~~00~~

A short time later, Cyclonus is sitting at the game table sipping his drink, taking their credits. A hand lays on his shoulder. He shoves it off. He does NOT like forward femmes. "Not interested," he doesn't even lift his helm.

The near passed out Anthozian across from him has his cards plucked from his tentacle and then dumped to the floor. The moonlit femme takes over. She gives a so-so tilt to the cards, and tosses in her ante.

Dirge, too busy with the femme half in his lap, doesn't notice his commander's helm shoot up. Thrust does, surprisingly. Cyclonus' smile broadens. Snapping his finger, the waitress comes over, "One more."

Thrust gapes, "Cyclonus?"

He leans in, "The game just got interesting." Was that a flush to her face?

She locks her gaze with him but speaks to the waitress, "I'll have three of whatever he is drinking." And tosses a high valued credit her way.

With a tip of her glittered helm, the waitress complies.

Within moments, the Huntress and the Commander have joined forces to force the other players out of the game. Now it's down to just them. Cyclonus is up to his sixth drink and beginning to feel the buzz. He doesn't drink this way unless a mission goes horribly, horribly wrong and then it's only in the secluded confines of Hurricane. He can see the effect is also beginning to hit the Huntress as well, still her hands are not faltering although they both are beginning to get a bit giddy.

She slaps her last card down and catches her forehelm, "I'm sorry, Cy-Twist." She swiftly corrects herself. He cocks a brow at faux pas. She smirks, "I am not willing to let you win, but I am willing to call it a draw. Can you live with that?"

He lays out his winning hand, to her groan. "Only if I get a rematch."

Her ice blue lips tease, "For you, any day."

Rising he divides the winnings, although most are his. He scoops hers into a silk satchel and hands them over. She accepts them and watches as he scoops his own into a black one. Then he sticks a hand out, "May I escort you home, Ma'am. There are some tough rogues out here."

She can see he's not being condescending or is he really looking for more. No, he is being his honorable self and treating her as a lady to be respected. Looping her hand through his bicep, lets him lead her as if they were members of the Elite at a ball, not drunken hard core warriors slogging through a slum.

She leans her head against his shoulder, "So tell me the truth Cy, do you ever dream of a future?"

"If I make it home from a mission, then I can think of tomorrow's meal." A painful truth.

She sighs heavily. She could really fall for him. Future past the next thrill wasn't one she had really thought of either. But since…

"Oh come on, don't tell me you actually think of domestication," he scoffs back. "June Cleaver-bot."

She doesn't change her stance. Side by side their steps are in unison, her head to his well muscled and armored shoulder.

"Yana?" Her silence is just too… weird.

"Shut it, Cy," she just wants to hold to this fleeting moment in time.

Without stopping, he removes her hand so he can wrap his arm around her waist. Hip to hip they continue the walk towards their ships. Both cloaked on the out skirts of the slum. Where things go worse. She knew where he parked, after all, she had tailed him in. He knew too, because he noticed her ship's signature following him. He just wasn't sure if she was here for a mission or entertainment.

Taking her to her ship, they both feel it. Something is wrong. Releasing each other, she decloaks the ship. All inebriation is shaken off by the reality of danger. The search is tight and detailed.

He com's her, "I have one."

"I have two."

"Time to go."

"No!"

She has no time to argue when the arm latches around her waist and hauls her aboard his ship. One to get her away, two to get Hurricane away. "You can't save her."

He yanks the yaw and exposes the heavier reinforced belly to the blast. Pinging is heard as the shrapnel of her ship rains against Hurricane's belly.

Spinning away, he takes her to the far side of the region. His men will be sleeping it off in with their consorts. They are in no danger, but he and she are.

Setting the cloaked ship back down, he turns to her. Fists shaking in rage. Face twisted in anger. He waits. She says nothing. She doesn't move either.

"She was your home, wasn't she?"

A nod.

"Docking rights anywhere?"

"Not legit."

"Come with me."

That shoots her hands up. "You have to be kidding me!" His head drops, Primus where did that come from? She gapes too realizing it popped out before he was ready as well.

Stunned their sheepish optics find each other. And then… the giggle. A full blown laugh.

"I must be drunk. I really need to sleep this off."

"Yeah, probably. You are acting weird."

He snorts to her previous weird question about 'future'. Getting up, he shows her to the back. "Take Dirge's bunk. He is cleaner that Thrust."

She nods. Giving her a hand hold thrust, hoists her to the third tiered berth. "Night Yana."

"Night Cy."

He takes the first level berth. They both knew it wouldn't last this way. Just a matter of time. He begins counting. She begins wrestling.

Twenty. She held longer than he thought. Shoving his blanket aside, crawls into his berth and turns her back to him. "I'm just cold."

"Okay." He'll let her be cold. He'll be her warmth.

"I'll kick you if you snore."

"Roger."

"If you steal the blankets I'll kill you."

"Understood."

"I don't like you."

"Mutual."

{pause}

"What are we going to do?"

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"Roger."

Over the top of the blanket, he lays his arm and scooches her against his front. Tucking the blanket under her hip and rib (as if she was a sparkling) brings his palm up to cup her cheek aligning her hem under his chin. Plutonic. Her own lower hand comes round the pillow to press against his fingers.

~~00~~

Morning comes with hung over soldiers groaning and being too loud.  
"Damn-it Commander, could you have TOLD us you moved the ship?"

Cyclonus leaps from his berth sliding the fabric divider shut, leaving Yana to sleep longer and most certainly keeping him from having to explain an unauthorized femme in HIS berth.

He snaps to his role. "Did you happen to hear the explosion last night?"

"Uuuuuhhh, no."

"What explosion?"

He shakes his head, "Um glad to see you were so concerned about your ride home. We are heading out now."

With that he latches the door and takes the pilot's seat. Thrust notices his commander's berth sealed, "So what are you hiding?"

"A bomb shell of a babe. So hot she's wanted by six systems." He easily snerks back.

Both Dirge and Thrust laugh to their commander's joke and take their seats as Hurricane launches.

"No seriously, Cyclonus, what have you got?"

"Enough high grade to bring Omega Supreme to his knees." he tries again.

Dirge takes the hint, "Okay, so you aren't saying. Bet it's something Starscream would have kits about."

On and on the other two chatter. Cyclonous on the other hand feels his spark racing. What is he going to do with his stowaway? How can he return home with a known hit-bot in his berth? It's not his teammates he's worried about. Not even his commanders its… her.

When they touch down on Moonbase One, he is hesitant in returning to his berth. Peeking in, finds it empty. Only a lone sweet on his pillow. How quaint.

During his debriefing, he tries to shake off the compliments for taking out her shuttle, but no one is listening to him and it is making him furious.

Heading down to the training range, launches his anger into the punching bags. This is very interesting to Yana, high up on her perch in the shadows of the ceiling beams.

Stripped to the waist, she gets a good examination of his body and form. With the added bonus of his movements amongst his fellow soldiers also working out.

Not as broad as Scrapper (a larger mech all around as is the function of construction workers.) Nor is he as air streamed as Thundercracker. Cyclonus, is in between several of these other forms. Warrior shoulders, between Soundwave and Thundercracker. A good mixture of brute force and swift strikes. Trim waist and hips allow him to take the punches in the gut or curl out of their way. Evasion. His thighs strong enough to climb his foe and slice them open, or fast enough to strike them before they know it.

A mech of her similar skill and training. No wonder he had been able to counter her moves. He would make an awesome partner. If she could get him to step away from the Guard.

But watching him release his anger, she sees there is something more than power behind those punches than other mechs she has run across. Honor. Duty.

Starscream comes in and questions him more, "What has you so peeved, Cyclonus?"

"There was no reason to take out her shuttle and I will not take credit for something I did not do and most certainly something that should not have been done. I have my honor. That was not an honorable move." He whips around and strikes the bag with his heel at level with Starscream's head, dropping down to a crouch.

"I may be a Commander, but I did not get here by taking credit for other's deeds and most certainly," he slowly rises and thrusts his face into his superior's, "Unhonorable strikes."

Starscream's optics flare to the implications, "Careful Cyclonus you could loose your rank."

"Take it. If being a Commander of the Elite Guard means that I take credit that is not mine and act like a politician, I want nothing to do with the Seekers…. Commander."

He holds his own waiting to see if Starscream will back down. Instead Starscream nods once, "Very well, Commander. That means we have other foes who may be after you and our other teams."

"Nor am I stupid or naive." He goes to strike the bag, but Starscream's hand is swifter and curls his palm around the fist blocking the blow.

Curling his face in, he whispers, "Be careful of your conquests, Cyclonus, you may come home with more than a STV." With that jerks his optics to the rafters (back of his helm to her), without moving his helm. "Some little scraplet of a tart?"

Not moving either, his optics narrow to his superior's reference. And there… he catches a glint of her pede before it retracts into the shadow of the roof beam.

"She is no TART!" he seethes a whisper of a threat.

Starscream beams to Cyclonus' rage making his forearm clench. "What is she?"

"A force to be reckoned with."

"Just make sure she doesn't wreck our forces." With that, releases the black fist and steps away.

Roaring, Cyclonus attacks the bag with every thing he has. Fists, arms, peded, legs…. Panting he finally leaves scooping up his loose armor in the process.

Stepping into the steam room, he lets the moisturized heat seep into what is left of himself. Sitting down, thumps his head against the back wall. Damn that femme. Damn his commander. Damn the ones who hit her shuttle making it look like it was he. Damn the universe. Damn his spark.

"Cyclonus?" The voice from last night. She's asking permission to break into his private moment.

What else can he do? He holds a hand out in offering to take hers in his. Her fingers touch his palm and he closes over hers. And he slowly brings them to his lips as she advances.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

Slipping down beside him, "Am I safe here?"

"Do you want to be?" he offers.

She lays the back of his hand against her thigh, just to feel his palm. Can she really give up her solitary life to strap on a badge? Controlled and told what to do? The monetary she has no problem giving up. It's the security of being herself. Of being one.

Her palm slides against his, slipping her fingers between his.

The feel of her hand slipping so snuggly against his. Entwined. It feels so good. Last night was wonderful. Never had he slept so good and so bad at the same moment. He loved having someone in his arms who wanted nothing more that his comfort. At the same time… he hated the fact he wanted her there. Since when was he a sparkling needing something in his arms to sleep well at night?

Since she made him laugh, that's when. When's the last time he was on a mission and laughed? When's the last time he was on a mission and needed a cuddle buddy? Never, that's when.

His fingers close down holding hers against his. Yeah, he could get used to her against him.

"What if they want to kill me?"

"I shall take you away."

"Cy?"

"Do you love me?"

"Let's find out."

She only has time to gape as he lifts her to his lap and parts his chest plates. Looking into the deep solace of his very life source. Right here? Where anyone could walk in on them? Right now? She hasn't even kissed him and yet he is ready to bare his very life and give it to her?

She squirms, "Cyclonus!"

Cupping the back of her helm, moves in and offers himself. He doesn't take her, he offers himself. "Lucanyana... it's yours if you want it."

"I-I.."

Looking down into the swirling pulsing of the Black Ops Commander's very life source it's frightening. This is what he protects and yet he's willing to hand it over to her. A criminal, an assassin who he fights against and he's willing to give it to her?

"I don't deserve it," she finally tells him that she respects him.

"Nor do I," she now sees how torn his own existence is.

That takes a moment to digest. He looks down into his own open spark chamber, "What is this? A life force. What good is it to me when I don't understand what I'm doing with it. Primus gave it to me and I'm running around trying to protect Cybertron. Why? Why am I trying to save her? From who? For what reason? What do you see?"

Letting a finger trace the lips to the spark chamber, he sucks in. Her touch is so light, so tempting so… he wants more.

"You like that?"

"I like the feel of you with me. I don't like me alone any more."

"Cy..."

"I'm sorry if I'm too forward," he starts to push her off his lap, but her other hand clamps to his shoulder. So he stops.

"Can we not do this here? I... not here."

He smiles and nods. Closing his chest, she whimpers a little. That does make him flush.


	3. InterTwined

Inter-Twined

Entering Hurricane, she just watches him for the next move.

"Too fast?" He scrunches his nose.

"No, too scared. I'm being a wus."

He laughs, "That's the LAST word I would use to describe you."

"I'm scared of disappointing you. Cyclonus, we are on opposite sides."

"Do you love Cybertron?"

"Yes"

"So do I. Do you want her safe and pure?"

"Yes."

"As do I. I operated on the cusp of the written law." He tosses his undercover elite armor into the corner he had carried in not bothering to put it back on after the steamer.

She can see where he is going and steps closer, "And I operate on the cusp of the unwritten parts."

He smiles back, lifting a hand to stroke her soft jaw line with his thumb, "Mm, and it is a fine line, is it not?"

She too leans in, a breath from his lips, "A grey line?"

His thumb grazes over her lip thus touching his as well as it passes between them. The graze sends shivers down his spine as well as hers. "Ready to blend those lines?"

Her lips part under his touch. His thumb stills. Lips close over the thumb. A deep tone moans from him and he moves.

Heated, forgets to move his thumb at first, pressing his own lips over the top. She pulls his hand down, pressing deeper into the kiss. His tongue slips in taking hold of her whilst the freed hand cups her hip closer. Now it's her turn to moan, cupping the back of his helm.

This is a kiss she's never had before. She's kissed before, sure, but this is so different. He's not forcing himself on her being the dominate one determined to force her into something she doesn't want. Nor is he being shy in thinking he's not good enough for her. Oh no, not that either.

The mech is confident in himself that he can provide the support and spark-protection she needs. He wants to infuse her spark with his, fortifying it. He knows he is mech enough for her. And she is femme enough for him. The taste of her is intoxicating. A nourishment he needs more of. A companion to his life. What's he's been missing.

So this is what it means to be in love?

Still steaming hot from the sauna, her hands slide over his glistening shoulders. She needs more of this. Her body rolls into him. Like she's trying to melt her body into his.

His lips yank back needing more. Suckling her neck, pulls at the delicate pieces. Langley her head rolls to the side and her hand presses him harder. "Yes," she seethes. "Yes, Cy…"

He is no fool, his lips are scalding her skin. Harder he nips and bites. Her hips graze into his. He tosses his head to the other side, rutting into the throat. And dips his tongue into the tiniest gap of her armor.

"Cy, yes. I said yes."

"No, you didn't."

He pushes her away and slides to one knee before her. So knightly, so regal. He takes her hands and press them to his parting chest plates. Not fully open, just enough to light the room with the peeking glow of his soul, an offer. He says nothing.

What is there to say? Words will just spoil this. Masters of silent action, she joins him, tossing her own breast plate to his pile of armor. She exposes the very essence of her own soul.

The light and dark blue tendrils reach out testing the other. Like a hand shake. They swirl against each other testing the waters. Afraid to give themselves over completely. Are they more scared to give or to take?

Leaning in, Cyclonus offers himself. Biting her lip, Yana does to. The sparks listen to the processors and take the chance. The light spark wraps around the dark one's offer, pulling him within. Bodies press closer and closer. Spark chambers touch forbidding anyone else to interfere. Arms support each other feeling the other melt. Lips parts and join helping the other to breath and taste the offering further.

Memories, fears, pleasures and joys mingle ensuring that this is a safe place to be. Promises and comfort ensure their future will be supported and encouraged together. One will not inhale without the other exhaling. One will not curl without the other bowing. One will not dream with out the other there right there beside them.

Neither heard the pounding on the door. Neither heard the ranking officer override the lock. Neither heard the gasp of the General nor saw the flush on his face for intruding on their sacred moment. Nor did they see the General back out silently reverently and resealing the door.

Still spark locked, the couple moves as one to complete their physical bonding. Joined at both the hips and chest, the crest of euphoria expounds anything they have ever known before. Pulsing their lives and bodies into one another, they become more that one. They become the ONLY one. The rest of the universe does not exist except for this One. Overload of love and powerful need pushes past their capacity to stay together. As precious as the moment is, it can not be held forever. Retreating back to their chambers, the bodies refuse to move (only enough to close the chambers), choosing to bask in the tingling after glow of their joining.

Cyclonus' chest is heaving like he had just out ran a division of Grimlocks. Yana on the other hand is feeling light headed like she just shot too high in the atmosphere and been set a drift to the ionosphere. Neither moves just soaking up the wealth of information they both have gathered and experiences. Memories that even they had forgotten came rushing out. Very touching private tender ones that pain and pull on the spark.

"I-I think I'm going to pass out," she slumps against him.

"Okay," he gets an arm to secure her to his limp frame. This close, they can still feel the pulses beginning to slow to a more regular beat.

"Blanket?" She asks.

"Oh right…" he lets go of her only long enough to cover them both. With the passing of their afterglow, the chill of Hurricane's interior will soon cool them uncomfortably as well.

Cyclonus pulls the fabric divider as well. No need for his teammates to find him entangled with his … Oh Primus… mate…. He strokes her face a beams. "Mate, my beautiful mate." Yana snuggles in with another wave of euphoria hearing her new title.

Ping

"Cyclonus, we need to talk." The General breaks into his drifting audios.

"Now?"

A delighted chuckle comes from the lead Commander of the Cybertronian Army, "No not now. 09:00."

Cyclonus beams, "Yes sir."

…..~~~ {return to present}

Hand in hand, Yana and Cyclonus enter the General's office. He's already seated behind his desk and motions for the door to be closed. Cyclonus does so.

He is not surprised to see Starscream absent for this meeting. But he is surprised to not see Skyfire. What he does see is Springer, a fellow flyer and Ultra Magnus' right hand.

They all know what is going to be asked. It has been waiting. Now, with the uprising and the fleeing of Starscream and several other trines, the question is to Commander Cyclonus.

Springer starts, "Skyfire has left Cybertron without a word to us."

Cyclonus gapes, "He what?!"

Ultra Magnus clears his throat, "Starscream has more than half the Elite Guard following him to the Decepticon forces, Commander. I need to know, do you stand with your Air Commander or with your Home Forces?"

Cyclonus can't look into those soft blue optics. Nor can he look into the cold hard ones of Springer's. "He's right," the dark flyer responds softly but confidently.

"Clarify." The General pushes the issue.

Cyclonus feels Yana soothing his hand. Still, he can't look into the optics of the bot who stood by him and supported his bond to a mercenary while his own commander fought to throw him out as a traitor.

"Megatron is right. I'm sorry sir but-"

"Cyclonus, how could you!" Springer snaps.

"Hear him out," Magnus stops the impending fight between the two Black Ops officers. "Proceed, Cyclonus."

Now the helm lifts, "My duty is to Cybertron. You and I all know she couldn't stay on this path. Something had to be done."

"Civil war is not the way," Springer tries to push.

"No one is listening. I know why the Elite Guard abandoned their post. I've seen it. The counsel won't even listen to their own guards trying to protect them. The old and royal pricks can't see past their bejeweled crowns to the suffering in Kaon and below."

Ultra Magnus nods while Springer snarls and prepares to counter. Now the loyal officer looks into the optics of one of his mentors, "I'm sorry sir."

Ultra Magnus nods again. It pains his spark to see Cyclonus turn. He has no idea he is following a fool on a fools errand. Yes, Cyclonus believes in the change of order, Ultra Magnus wants a change too, but not like this. He's already been through too many wars and buried too many Primes. Now another is being targeted and he really needs Cyclonus to help him stop it. He just really prays he is not in on the assassination attempt. He knows he will not get an answer if he asks. The tall royal blue bot also knows where Cyclonus' spark lies, with Cybertron.

It is the older mech that looks away. Sadly he follows his duty, "You know you walk out of here with nothing. Once you leave the Fort's gates you are a traitor to the Cybertronian Army and will be hunted and treated as such. Is that understood?"

Lifting his chin proudly, takes the truth on his chin, "Yes, understood."

"You leave with nothing."

Pulling the moonlight hand to his chest he clenches, "I take my mate."

That lifts the blue helm and it's smiling as it asks the question it already knows the answer to: "Are you sure, Lucayana?"

Proud and yet warmly she replies to the mech who let her stay by her new mate's side when by all rights, she should have been living in a prison for the rest of her life: "How can I stand against him?"

Magnus leans in, "Yana, there are others that are making that tough decision right now. You may share his spark, but your beliefs are still your own. Bonding with him does not take away your own foundations. What do you want?"

She looks over to Cyclonus. Although she can feel his spark racing beneath their entwined hands, his voice is very supportive, "He's right."

"And I already gave you my answer when you asked me the first time. And the second and… No, I agree. I came from Tarn. I know what is going on. I am joining the Deception cause."

Springer is softened by the moment. Sure he knows Cyclonus to be the dedicated mech of duty to mission, but he's also rather quiet. So is his mate. And yes, he is quiet well aware of her pre-bonding ways. It took Magnus telling him three times before it sunk in that the fellow Black Ops Commander was bound to a hit-bot/mercenary.

Now before him he sees it all. They respect each other and have not made this decision lightly.

Springer clears his throat, "We keep Hurricane."

Silently Cyclonus nods. Handing over the data pad he brought with him, finishes the interview, "These are my codes. I have left all the weapons, but I am taking my dagger. It was my father's."

Both officer's nod. With that the couple rises. Ultra Magnus does as well. Spring follows suit and hold his hand out, "I'm sorry Cyclonus, but I will kill you if I have to."

Cyclonus smirks back, "Can't hit what you can't see, Springer." An old line between the two officers who work well under the darkness of the laws. They shake hands and Ultra Magnus leads them silently to down the halls. No one salutes either officer for they know this will be the couple's death march. After this, they well be nothing but enemies.

So much could be said but it would be too hard to say, so in the end, nothing is said. At the gate, Ultra Magnus signals it to be opened. No final handshake for them. Just the break of painful optic contact. With a run, the couple transforms and fly off into the darkness.

"Cyclonus, you fool." Ultra Magnus whispers, "Please don't let it be me that kills her."

"Ultra Magnus, you should have come with me," Cyclonus whispers back, "I didn't want to have to kill you…"

a/n Yes fans, I have done it again, and yet not. Have you figured out now the anomosity between Cyclonus and Ultra Magnus in G1 series?


End file.
